


An Observation of Violence and Destruction Within The Realms of The Human Psyche

by Eeriel



Category: Original Work
Genre: inspired by lovecraft but shhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eeriel/pseuds/Eeriel
Summary: We all worship the Void. To some extent, It is as much a part of us as we are a part of It.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am a fairly average writer, with little skill towards narrative or fictional pieces, but I want to change that. This project is not an exercise in catering towards perceived demand from readers who frequent AO3, but is instead the beginning of a personal endeavor, where I write a story not for others, but for myself (man, did that make me sound like an ass?). I desire to write a work of fiction that will almost be a flow of consciousness, with the voice I rarely use: my own. The internal voice that some of us perhaps bury in an attempt to not seem out-of-place. A voice that displays my internal monologue and ideas, while also adhering to no discernible structure or organization. It is a wonder and a privilege to have the tools with which to do exactly this. Enjoy yourself. I know I will.

A woman stumbled along the walkway, the street glowing with the reflections of lights around the block on its rain-soaked face, poorly illuminating her figure. Her raincoat cast deep shadows across her body, partially shrouding her from the peering eyes of potential passerby. The wind picked up the hem of her dress and pulled it every which way, and yet she made no move to tame it. She kept moving with a dogged determination, her pale grey eyes glazed and far away, her visage lined and almost inhuman, pale reflections twisting her features in a barbaric way. The sound of her heels clipping the pavement were the only noise in the air, the beats tripping and uneven. 

The night air almost seemed to surround her, like a sentient miasma that clung about her every move. Perhaps it was the humidity. Perhaps it was something else. 

Jerry Rogers, manager of the Slaherty Steel Mill, walked out of a late-closing watering hole, shrugging into a jacket as he walked out the door, swaying down the steps with an air of obvious drunkenness. As he continued walking he failed to notice the lady with a red and beige raincoat on an immediate collision course with himself.

They bumped into each other, and the man apologized, slurring. The girl said nothing, gazing distantly in front of her, not even seeming to realize she had been bumped into. Years from now, Jerry would recount this interaction, and ponder aloud the strange design of that woman's coat. He had never forgotten the unique pattern, dots and flowery images, all diagonal across the front of beige material, the color a rusted vibrant red. 

Her name was Marriane Havytis, a local girl in the small town of Morrigan, towards the forested north. Her family had emigrated from their Finnish motherland, and had set up a pharmacy in the small town some twenty years before, during the first world war, and had become well-known for their home remedies and vital consultation. 

However, the more well-known the family became, the more reserved their only daughter grew, until finally, no one had any idea of her appearance or manner. Her parents would often lament to their friends about her desolation, but would not force her to leave their home or do anything else she did not desire. 

There was no reason she should have been walking alone in the darkness that damp and chilly night, her parents declared to the police, the day they filed her as a missing person. 

Jerry Rogers, in his inebriated state, never realized the strange pattern on that lovely girl's coat had been made with blood, and so never mentioned it to a single soul.


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken fifty years for the records to be fully combed through. Hundreds of thousands of secret files had been dumped online all those years ago, after the Markman dictatorship of 2024 had been dissolved. After that, the nation had undergone a voluntary overhaul, clearing the corruption that had seeped throughout its veins. No one was safe from Review, but the people were honestly glad for it. 

Those found guilty of crimes against the country had their lives made into examples for the present and future , and the American Republic's first renewing action of democracy had been to pit their lives against the vote. 

Suffice to say, the vote was unanimous.

An unprecedented result of the file dumping were the secrets exposed, some for the first time in hundreds of years. 

Among them were thousands of missing persons cases, all investigated personally by the government and subsequently buried and redacted for unknown reasons. 

Marriane Havytis' file was not the only one in Morrigan that had been investigated and purposely concealed in the year 1940.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you still here.


	3. Chapter Three

She feels the darkness surround her. Its smoking velvet fingers lay waste to her skin, leaving trails of fire along her nerves. She is nothing. She is nowhere. She is no one. There is not a thing but the endless dark and pain that consumes her very soul. 

The Void calls to her. 

She answers it with blood.


	4. Chapter Four

Marriane felt as if she were dying. 

A suitor had arrived at the house, asking for her, and her mother had cajoled her, desperate to find any motivation her daughter could use to rid herself of her home-bound life. Perhaps a handsome young gentleman could persuade her? No, Marriane told her mother. The boy, Markos, was cruel to the younger children when they played in the street, and besides, he had never seen her up close, only from a window, and a second story one at that! She would have none of it. 

Anna Havytis was worried for her daughter's future well-being, but she could not bring herself to force her daughter to do that which she would not. Her father, her dearest Kauko, would be disappointed to find further small efforts had failed. It was better than the alternative, however. An unhappy Marriane would darken the shadows of the family home, attract the vermin, and chill the air. Better to leave the situation be, for the time being, and maintain the cheer and light Marriane almost always sported.


End file.
